It starts.

There’s drywall dust on the TV remote, on the stacks of DVDs that do nothing but grow.
There’s a fine white coating on each and every ladle, spatula and pan.
Bonhomme’s cheery blue play kitchen is grey.
The couch puffs as I sit on it, defeated.
It’s a house, it’s a house. It’s just a house.

Dearest staplegunned the plastic sheeting to the beautifully hand-sponge-painted livingroom walls. He didn’t want to make too many holes, so he only attached the sheet in about three spots, leaving about six meter-long gaps fluttering.
There’s dust on and around every single round protusion on Bonhomme’s lego, which had been left out in all its hundreds of pieces.
The diningroom ceiling is nice and smooth now, stucco all gone, matching the kitchen ceiling.
It’s dust, it’s dust. It’s only dust.

The kitchen reno hasn’t officially started, but Dearest wanted to be in a good position when it does, so he thought he could sand about twelve square meters of ceiling without too much fuss.
Nothing has been packed. Crumpled cereal bags lay heaped on the top of the fridge. Bonhomme’s sippycup lids are jumbled on their drip-dry rack.
Because the reno has not yet begun.
Just, apparently, the pre-reno.
Breathe in, Grace. Breathe out.

Get the banker’s boxes out.
Pack the non-essential cookware.
Donate the cans you haven’t touched in months, the lentils, the pasta, the older extra pots and pans.
Make Rice Krispies squares. Make a big batch of pea soup, and chili in the slowcooker (after you give it a good rinse).
Tell Bonhomme’s friends that we’ll do park playdates for the summer.
Don’t kill your husband, don’t kill your husband. He was trying to be helpful. Really. Don’t kill him.

The air sparkles in the thousands of dancing motes as the evening sun slants in.
I mow the lawn, determined that the outside of the house will be neat and tidy, because God knows no person, thing or room inside is.
I send Dearest off with some kitchenware donations and instructions to take a break.
I take a break.
It’s the last major reno, it’s the last reno. It’s the very last major reno. 


1 comment so far

  1. Moosilaneous on

    In summary:


    I feel your pain.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: